


alive

by darlingargents



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Developing Relationship, F/F, Femslash February, POV Multiple, POV Second Person, Passage of time, tiny bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9900992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents
Summary: Sixteen years of a galaxy oppressed, and she's the only thing that you love anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have kind of been working on this since August of 2016 (August!), but due to a technical failure in the middle of working on it, I almost lost all of my work -- and after that it was a lot harder to work on. I've finally opened it up again and polished it for Femslash February, because I may not be writing much right now but I wanted to publish something, at least. And I don't write enough Barrissoka.
> 
> In case the work itself is unclear: each roman numeral represents one year, starting in 18 BBY. I set Twilight of the Apprentice in 3 BBY because I couldn't find an official source on the year (though I didn't really spend long looking, honestly). There is some very mild and implied sexual content, but it all happens after Ahsoka is of age, so there's no underage tag. The first part of the story is from Ahsoka's POV, and the second is from Barriss's. I wasn't sure of the best way of presenting the varying perspectives -- I wrote it in Scrivener split-screen, which I can't really replicate on here -- so I went with one after the other. I hope it works.
> 
> Warnings: brief mentions of suicidal thoughts, lots of thoughts of murder, and the aforementioned brief and implied sexual content. Also the tea that they drink was just a random Star Wars drink I found on Wookieepedia, so it doesn't... mean anything.
> 
> Honestly, I just hope I did this story justice. It's been a labour of love, and a major experiment in a writing style I've never done before. I don't know if it's my best work, but I am very proud of it, and I hope you all enjoy it :)
> 
>  **ETA July 18, 2018:** This story is now available to be read as it was originally written, in parallel -- head over to chapter 2 to read it that way. Both chapters contain the same story.

**part i: ahsoka**

**i.**

You don’t see her.

Once, you think you come close. Anger burns in the pit of your stomach, and you wonder, for a moment, what it would be like to put your lightsaber through her eye. You’re immediately ashamed. But the image stays with you for longer than you want to admit.

* * *

**ii.**

You don’t see her. You refuse to think of her. You fly across the galaxy, helping Bail and Mon with the rebellion, and every time you see someone with green skin, your hands tighten into fists and you force down the burning anger. If you saw her, you think you’d kill her. And she would deserve it.

* * *

**iii.**

You see her. You’re in the same cantina on a backwater Mid Rim planet, and you sense her long before you see her getting a drink at the bar. She sees you at the same time as you look at her, and her eyes feel like they’re seeing your soul.

You leave, near-panic, and hide in the alley. It’s only a minute later when she comes out of the cantina and approaches you. You pull our your lightsabers and hold them across her throat. One movement, and she would die. Your hands shake with a desperate anger, wanting so badly to just do it.

She doesn’t say a word, just looks at you, her eyes bright under the white glow of your sabers. Anger fills you, fuelling you, and it wants her blood, wants her head. But that is a path to the dark side.

You pull them away and leave. You don’t look back.

You don’t look back.

You regret it.

* * *

**iv.**

Every day for months, you think of that day. You wonder how you would have felt if you’d killed her. Some days, you imagine it. You’ve killed before, and this isn’t any different, not really.

You’re lying to yourself. You know that you are. You don’t care. You can’t let yourself care.

But you wonder, day after day, what stopped you. You don’t know what would happen if you saw her again. You don’t know what you would have done differently. You don’t know if you even could have killed her.

You wonder if you could do it. Once, it wouldn’t have been a question at all.

* * *

**v.**

You wake up gasping from a dream. All you remember is warmth and green skin under your hands and your own name, gasped into the darkness. Shame burns through you like a wildfire, destroying everything in its path. You roll over and go back to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, you don’t remember it, but the next time you see a diamond, you feel that shame, and don’t know why.

* * *

**vi.**

You see her again, and for some reason, you suddenly feel grateful that Togruta can’t blush. You’re at a refugee camp delivering supplies from the Rebellion, and she’s at the medical station, bandaging up the hand of a young Twi’lek girl.

You make to leave, but she turns and sees you suddenly. You freeze, and can’t make your body move as she sends off the Twi’lek girl and crosses the camp to stand in front of you.

She seems… less. Less than you remember. Smaller, quieter, bleeding shame and guilt and grief into the Force. Along with fear, and acceptance. You realize, like a bolt of lightning, that she expects to be attacked again, and try to look as non-threatening as possible.

“I’m — I’m not going to do anything,” you say, and she starts in surprise, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“It would be within your rights,” she says softly.

You reach for your sabers and take them off your belt before dropping them on the ground. “I won’t hurt you.” It’s taken years to realize that you’d be worse off if you killed her. And that you’d regret it every day for the rest of your life.

She looks almost shocked, her mouth falling half-open for a long moment before she speaks quietly. “I thought that if I ever saw you again, there would be a lightsaber between us.” What she doesn’t say is obvious in the Force: that she truly expected to die by your hand and your lightsaber. You almost reel back in shock.

“I — I wouldn’t—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“You should. I deserve it.” She looks away, as if trying not to look at you. A sharp pain pierces your heart, surprising you.

“You don’t,” you say, feeling almost desperate, trying to make her understand. “You made mistakes, but we all did.”

“I know.” She closes her eyes and leaves, firmly ignoring you, blocking you in the Force. For a moment, you just stand there, feeling almost sick with shame and desperation, but she doesn’t look back at you.

You were finished delivering the supplies before you even saw her. You get onto your ship and power it up. She’s still not looking at you. You keep your eyes on her until you’re too high to even see the camp.

You don’t regret it. You miss her more than words. You don’t cry, you don’t, but your heart is aching and by the Force, she’s the only thing that you want now.

* * *

**vii.**

You find out, one day, that she’s joining the Rebellion. At first, you don’t believe it. But it’s official: she’s joining up, and she’s going to stay on the base you’re currently assigned to.

The day dawns cold and clear, snow several inches deep covering the ground, and you wait outside your ship, hands freezing without gloves and a fur-lined hood over your head. Her ship touches down, and the leader of base greets her as she comes down the ramp. You don’t speak. You’re not sure you can.

When she makes eye contact with you, it’s like a shock goes through the Force, freezing both of you in place. There is a long moment where you can’t breathe, where there’s nothing except for her.

It breaks a moment later as the general takes her arm and takes her down the ramp, talking her ear off. You can hear him a little — your montrals are covered by your hood, but Togruta still have good hearing — as he tells her to get settled. And then she’s in front of you, and your breath catches in your throat. She doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to speak, and you swallow, the cold air breaking you out of your shock.

“Come back to my ship?” you ask, gesturing behind you to your parked ship. She half-smiles, and nods. You go in, aware of her following you. More aware than you’ve ever been in your life.

Once you’re in the galley, you stop and gesture for her to have a seat. She does, still watching you intently. “Uh,” you say, floundering for words, “would you like a drink? I have sapir tea, and—” You look into the sparse cupboard. “And instant caf.”

“The tea would be fine,” she says softly, and you make it, aware of her eyes on you. The rich aroma of the tea fills up the small room as the tea steeps, and you pour it. You bring two steaming mugs to the table and sit down next to her, warming your hands against the mug.

You run your finger across the rim of the mug, feeling a chip in it with your nail. You take a sip, and it warms you from inside.When the silence is unbearable, you make yourself speak. “Why did you join the Rebellion?” you ask. There are so many things you want to ask her, a million questions on the tip of your tongue, but none of them are safe. Having her here, drinking tea in your ship, still feels like almost too much — it feels like if you touch her, she’ll shatter, and you’ll be alone again.

She shrugs, swirling the green liquid around in the cup with the Force. “Luminara contacted me. She thought it would be a good idea.”

That comes as a surprise to you — you’d had no idea that Luminara was in contact with her. You realize that she didn’t actually answer your question. “So she convinced you?” you ask.

“No, not really.” She’s firmly looking in another direction.

On instinct, you reach out and lay your hand on her arm.She freezes, her long green fingers tight against the mug she’s holding. “Barriss…”

“I can’t do this,” she says, standing. A sharp pain pierces your heart, and you desperately reach out with the Force, asking her _why_.

Her mental shields slip for a moment, just a tiny sliver of time, and you _see_.

She stumbles back away, eyes wide. “I have to go,” she says, placing the mug on the table and hurrying towards the door.

But you know now. You can’t let her go. Your mind is burning, burning, and before you can think, you follow her. Your hands are shaking, you’ve never felt more uncertain, but you have to — you have to.

You grab her by the arm just before the hits the control to lower the ramp, and turn her to face you. “Barriss, you can’t just leave—”

And as if she can’t control herself, as if every shield and barrier she ever built up has come crashing down, she kisses you.

Even knowing, even after seeing Barriss’s memories and thoughts and wishes and dreams, it’s a shock. For a moment you’re frozen, and she seems like she’s about to pull away, but you pull her closer and kiss her back.

She’s warm and so alive under your hands and mouth, shaking with fear but kissing you like she can’t breath and you’re her air. You push her back and she hits the wall, and you don’t break away. For a long, perfect moment, you wonder if this is proof that the Force never abandoned the Jedi, because nothing could be so perfect and wonderful on its own.

When she finally pulls away, you move back, trying to gauge her reaction. You’re afraid, so afraid that she’s going to leave and it will be as if nothing happened, but she looks almost exhilarated, and you realize how long she’d been dreaming of that. So have you, you realize after a moment. You’d buried it, refused to accept it, but this has been building since the first moment you met on Geonosis.

You swallow, trying to rapidly adapt to this. “Do you… what do you want?” you ask.

She smiles and tilts her head up to kiss you gently. “You,” she says against your lips, and you smile.

* * *

**viii.**

The seasons pass. The rebel bases move from planet to planet. She lives on your ship with you, and helps you will all your rebellion duties. You become a leader in the Rebellion, selling information and making trouble for the Empire. And she’s always there with you, holding your hand. You think you’re in love. You don’t ever want this to end.

One day, she helps choose your code name: Fulcrum.

“It suits you,” she says when you pitch it to her. You’re laying in your bed on your ship, her head resting on your shoulder, her hand on your stomach.

“Does it?” you ask, and she presses a kiss to your lekku in response. You stifle a giggle; it almost tickles, and you’ve never had the heart to tell her.

“Yeah, I think I like it,” you say. She sits up and kisses you on your mouth, one hand trailing down your side and resting on your hip. You sit up and pull her closer, one hand in her uncovered hair and the other around her waist, pulling her closer.

“I love you,” she whispers against your mouth.

“I love you, too,” you say.

* * *

**ix.**

You love her. It has always been like this. You always will. And nothing will ever change it.

* * *

**xvi.**

You face down your former mentor with agony in your heart. The last thought before your lightsabers clash together in blinding light is of her face.

Hours later, you wake in the dark, and you can feel her, looking for you. A smile slowly crosses your face, and you stand, and make your way down into the dark.

 

*

 

**part ii: barriss**

**i.**

You don’t see her.

You come close, once. You sense her, somewhere, a flash of burning rage, and you shrink away from it. Shame and guilt floods your veins. You wonder if the Force wants you to pay for what you’ve done. You consider crashing your ship into a star, but only for a moment — you have a debt to pay. But the image stays with you. For longer than you want to admit.

* * *

**ii.**

You don’t see her. You think of her every day. You wonder, and wonder, and wonder. You see her wanted poster up on a wall somewhere, and your breath stops, your chest tightens, and you need a moment to stop. You fly across the galaxy, helping those you can, healing as many as you can. You want to see her again. You wonder what would happen. Whatever she would do, you would deserve it.

* * *

**iii.**

You see her. You’re getting a drink at a dirty cantina after a long day of volunteering at the nearby hospital. When you look at her, she’s looking at you, and she looks like an anooba in the headlights, eyes wide and terrified.

She leaves and goes into the alley behind the cantina. For a moment, you consider letting her go, but if you don’t speak to her, you’ll never know what might have happened. You go into the alley. She’s faced away from you, until you get close, and then she pulls outher white lightsabers and crosses them over your throat.

You don’t say a word. You just look at her. Her teeth are bared, the light from her sabers illuminating the angles of her face, and you remember with vivid clarity that Togruta are predators. You wonder if you’re going to die, and you accept it. It’s deserved, but it’s her choice.

She pulls them away and deactivates them. She leaves, and you can see her trembling. She doesn’t look back.

She doesn’t look back, but you watch her go.

You don’t regret it.

* * *

**iv.**

You think of that day for months. You wonder, over and over, why she spared you. It would have been her right, granted by the Force, the lifeblood of the galaxy, but she didn’t kill you. You’re grateful, but you can’t stop wondering why.

_Why?_

You wouldn’t have done it, you know, but you know you could never hurt her again. The memory of the time you almost did haunts you every day, and you vow to never make the same choice again. She will never hurt at your hand again.

* * *

**v.**

You wake up from a dream of her. It’s indistinct and blurry. You remember the warmth of her mouth on yours, the brightness of her skin, the weight of her over you, and shame settles under your skin like armour. You don’t sleep for a long time. You don’t forget for longer. You think about it nearly every day, and for the first time, start to contemplate a future that doesn’t involve a lightsaber between you and her.

* * *

**vi.**

You see her again when you’re volunteering at a Twi’lek refugee camp on a colony planet in the Outer Rim. You’re bandaged the hand of young girl when you feel a presence in the Force, and turn to see her looking at you.

She looks like she wants to leave, but she froze upon seeing you, so you send the girl on her way and cross the camp to face her.

She’s even taller than the last time you met, and you almost have to look up at her. You don’t speak, half expecting one of her sabers to go through your heart. You understand the possibility; you accept it.

“I’m — I’m not going to do anything,” she says suddenly, and you almost jump. She looks almost guilty; you try to hide your confusion.

“It would be within your rights,” you say, almost to yourself.

She takes her lightsabers off her belt and you freeze for a moment before she drops them on the ground. “I won’t hurt you,” she says, eyes intense, and you hold back your shock.

“I thought that if I ever saw you again, there would be a lightsaber between us,” you manage to say, voice low and broken. Her eyes widen in shock.

“I — I wouldn’t—”

“You should. I deserve it,” you say, cutting her off. It’s been over six years now, and you’ve paid back your debt, or at least most of it; maybe it’s finally time for the Force to take you back into the stardust from which you were created.

“You don’t,” she says. “You made mistakes, but we all did.”

“I know.” You close your eyes and turn around, walking away. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. You go back to the medical station and get back to work. You don’t breathe properly until you hear her ship take to the air and fly away. You don’t look back.

You regret it. There’s a hole in your chest, and you know you can fill it alone if you have to, but you want — you _want_. You want _her_. Desperately.

Jedi aren’t allowed to want anything. But you’re not a Jedi anymore. You haven’t been one for a lifetime.

* * *

**vii.**

You decision to join the Rebellion is both impossible and incredibly easy.

You’re not sure that you would have, if not for meeting her at the refugee camp all those months ago. For the first time since you stood in front of the Chancellor and confessed to your crime, you think that perhaps you can do something truly good, rather than just penance.

The general assigned to the base greets you when you come off the ship. There are a few beings about, watching you land, and your gaze skips over all of them before veering back to the Togruta standing near the middle of the row, wrapped in winter clothes but still recognizable.

It’s her.

For a moment, you can’t breath, and the general’s words fade out as the world shrinks to the space between you and her.

A second later, it breaks, and the general is accompanying you down the ramp. He tells you to get settled and that you’ll be assigned a job the next day. And then there’s nothing between you and her, and you force yourself not to run to her as you approach her. You stop in front of her, and don’t say anything, allowing her to make the first move.

“Come back to my ship?” she asks, gesturing behind her to her ship. You nod, a small smile appearing on your face without prompting, and follow her onto her ship. The air feels tense around you and her, but not in a bad way — it’s as if the Force is holding its breath.

She gestures for you to sit once you’re in the galley, and you do, still watching her. Part of you had wondered if you’d ever see her again — it’s a large galaxy, after all — and you can’t seem to make yourself stop looking, now that you can. “Uh, would you like a drink?” she asks. “I have sapir tea, and—” She opens the cupboard and examines the contents. “And instant caf.”

“The tea would be fine,” you say. You watch her as she makes it. The Jedi are miracles of movement, but she feels like more, at least to you. She brings two mugs of tea to the table and sits down next to you. You blow on the tea to cool it, waiting.

“Why did you join the Rebellion?” she asks after several long moments. In the Force, she’s full of anxiety and worry and anticipation. You’re sure that you feel the same, or close to it.

You contemplate your answer, using the Force to stir your tea. “Luminara contacted me. She thought it would be a good idea.” Which is a non-answer, but saying the truth would be too much. And you know that she doesn’t feel the way you do. Not that you can blame her. _You tried to kill her, Offee_ , you think to yourself. _It’s your fault, as always._

“So she convinced you?” she asks. So she picked up on the non-answer.

“No, not really.” You look away. You’re so close, and you can’t do this. _How did I think this was a good idea? Tea with Ahsoka. Because that could go well._

She reaches out and touches your arm, and you stiffen. Too much, too close. You’re frozen, your only option other than trembling, as she speaks. “Barriss…”

Your name on her tongue is something you haven’t heard for years. You could listen to it for the rest of your life. You pull away and stand. “I can’t do this,” you say, and Ahsoka looks so desperate, so desolate — and she reaches out with the Force. And for only a moment, your mental shields slip. And she sees it.

Everything.

You stumble away, breaking the connection, and put down the mug so you don’t drop it. Your hands are shaking. “I have to go,” you say, and turn to the door, only managing to not run due to tremendous willpower.

She follows you. Of course. You retrace your mental map of the ship, and find the door just as she catches up to you. She grabs your arm just as you’re about to lower the ramp, and she turns you to face her, holding you there, eyes wide and desperate.

“Barriss, you can’t just leave—” she says, and the desperation and fear in her voice breaks something in you. And for the first time in so many years, you lose control. And you kiss her.

It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, except for a moment, she doesn’t move. You begin to pull away, shame filling you, but she pulls you closer, up to her chest, one arm wrapping around your waist, and kisses you back.

It’s desperate, and messy, and inexpert, but it’s still perfect. You kiss her harder, wanting — wanting _more_ , and for the first time, it actually seems possible. Hope is growing inside your chest, filling you with pure joy.

You’ve wanted this since the first time you saw her after the Jedi fell. And you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to let it go now.

With great regret, you pull away, and look up at her face, worried for a moment. But she’s smiling, and she’s still holding you, and the hope that you feel threatens to overwhelm you.

“Do you… what do you want?” she asks.

You smile, and tilt your head up to brush a chaste kiss against her lips. “You,” you say against her mouth, and she smiles.

* * *

**viii.**

Seasons pass, and the Rebellion grows. You move with her and the rebel bases from planet to planet. You sell your ship and move onto hers, and it sometimes feels like a dream world. Sometimes you’re in the cockpit and she comes up behind you and drops a kiss on the top of your head and you wonder if you’re dreaming, because there’s no way you could deserve this.

But somehow it’s happening anyway.

She becomes a leader in the Rebellion, and you help her choose between a variety of codenames.

“It suits you,” you say when she suggests Fulcrum. You’re in bed with her, bare head against her shoulder and one hand resting on her stomach.

“Does it?” she asks, and you kiss the underside of her left lekku in response. She smiles. “Yeah, I think I like it.”

You sit up and kiss her, moving your hand from her stomach to her hip. She sits up and shifts closer to you, resting one hand in your hair and wrapping the other around your waist. For a moment you’re overwhelmed with pure happiness.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

**ix.**

You love her. It has always been like this. You always will. And nothing will ever change it.

* * *

**xvi.**

She is in the rebellion, and you are afraid. One night you wake up with an agonizing pain splitting your chest, and then she’s gone, into the blackness of the Sith. Dead or alive, you don’t know. But you will. You have no choice.

You pack your lightsaber and everything you own, and you steal a starship. The coordinates are set for Malachor.

You press down the hyperspace lever, and the stars blur around you.


	2. a shift in formatting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fic is formatted the way I originally wrote it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't get your hopes up, first of all -- this is not a new chapter, it's a reformatting of the story. Same story. Different format. Massive thanks to 3541, who figured out how to do this and walked me through it.

**i.**

You don’t see her.

Once, you think you come close. Anger burns in the pit of your stomach, and you wonder, for a moment, what it would be like to put your lightsaber through her eye. You’re immediately ashamed. But the image stays with you for longer than you want to admit.

 

| 

**i.**

You don’t see her.

You come close, once. You sense her, somewhere, a flash of burning rage, and you shrink away from it. Shame and guilt floods your veins. You wonder if the Force wants you to pay for what you’ve done. You consider crashing your ship into a star, but only for a moment — you have a debt to pay. But the image stays with you. For longer than you want to admit.  
  
---|---  
  
**ii.**

You don’t see her. You refuse to think of her. You fly across the galaxy, helping Bail and Mon with the rebellion, and every time you see someone with green skin, your hands tighten into fists and you force down the burning anger. If you saw her, you think you’d kill her. And she would deserve it.

| 

**ii.**

You don’t see her. You think of her every day. You wonder, and wonder, and wonder. You see her wanted poster up on a wall somewhere, and your breath stops, your chest tightens, and you need a moment to stop. You fly across the galaxy, helping those you can, healing as many as you can. You want to see her again. You wonder what would happen. Whatever she would do, you would deserve it.  
  
**iii.**

You see her. You’re in the same cantina on a backwater Mid Rim planet, and you sense her long before you see her getting a drink at the bar. She sees you at the same time as you look at her, and her eyes feel like they’re seeing your soul.

You leave, near-panic, and hide in the alley. It’s only a minute later when she comes out of the cantina and approaches you. You pull our your lightsabers and hold them across her throat. One movement, and she would die. Your hands shake with a desperate anger, wanting so badly to just do it.

She doesn’t say a word, just looks at you, her eyes bright under the white glow of your sabers. Anger fills you, fuelling you, and it wants her blood, wants her head. But that is a path to the dark side.

You pull them away and leave. You don’t look back.

You don’t look back.

You regret it.

| 

**iii.**

You see her. You’re getting a drink at a dirty cantina after a long day of volunteering at the nearby hospital. When you look at her, she’s looking at you, and she looks like an anooba in the headlights, eyes wide and terrified.

She leaves and goes into the alley behind the cantina. For a moment, you consider letting her go, but if you don’t speak to her, you’ll never know what might have happened. You go into the alley. She’s faced away from you, until you get close, and then she pulls out her white lightsabers and crosses them over your throat.

You don’t say a word. You just look at her. Her teeth are bared, the light from her sabers illuminating the angles of her face, and you remember with vivid clarity that Togruta are predators. You wonder if you’re going to die, and you accept it. It’s deserved, but it’s her choice.

She pulls them away and deactivates them. She leaves, and you can see her trembling. She doesn’t look back.

She doesn’t look back, but you watch her go.

You don’t regret it.  
  
**iv.**

Every day for months, you think of that day. You wonder how you would have felt if you’d killed her. Some days, you imagine it. You’ve killed before, and this isn’t any different, not really.

You’re lying to yourself. You know that you are. You don’t care. You can’t let yourself care.

But you wonder, day after day, what stopped you. You don’t know what would happen if you saw her again. You don’t know what you would have done differently. You don’t know if you even could have killed her.

You wonder if you could do it. Once, it wouldn’t have been a question at all.

| 

**iv.**

You think of that day for months. You wonder, over and over, why she spared you. It would have been her right, granted by the Force, the lifeblood of the galaxy, but she didn’t kill you. You’re grateful, but you can’t stop wondering why.

_Why?_

You wouldn’t have done it, you know, but you know you could never hurt her again. The memory of the time you almost did haunts you every day, and you vow to never make the same choice again. She will never hurt at your hand again.  
  
**v.**

You wake up gasping from a dream. All you remember is warmth and green skin under your hands and your own name, gasped into the darkness. Shame burns through you like a wildfire, destroying everything in its path. You roll over and go back to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, you don’t remember it, but the next time you see a diamond, you feel that shame, and don’t know why.

| 

**v.**

You wake up from a dream of her. It’s indistinct and blurry. You remember the warmth of her mouth on yours, the brightness of her skin, the weight of her over you, and shame settles under your skin like armour. You don’t sleep for a long time. You don’t forget for longer. You think about it nearly every day, and for the first time, start to contemplate a future that doesn’t involve a lightsaber between you and her.  
  
**vi.**

You see her again, and for some reason, you suddenly feel grateful that Togruta can’t blush. You’re at a refugee camp delivering supplies from the Rebellion, and she’s at the medical station, bandaging up the hand of a young Twi’lek girl.

You make to leave, but she turns and sees you suddenly. You freeze, and can’t make your body move as she sends off the Twi’lek girl and crosses the camp to stand in front of you.

She seems… less. Less than you remember. Smaller, quieter, bleeding shame and guilt and grief into the Force. Along with fear, and acceptance. You realize, like a bolt of lightning, that she expects to be attacked again, and try to look as non-threatening as possible.

“I’m — I’m not going to do anything,” you say, and she starts in surprise, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“It would be within your rights,” she says softly.

You reach for your sabers and take them off your belt before dropping them on the ground. “I won’t hurt you.” It’s taken years to realize that you’d be worse off if you killed her. And that you’d regret it every day for the rest of your life.

She looks almost shocked, her mouth falling half-open for a long moment before she speaks quietly. “I thought that if I ever saw you again, there would be a lightsaber between us.” What she doesn’t say is obvious in the Force: that she truly expected to die by your hand and your lightsaber. You almost reel back in shock.

“I — I wouldn’t—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“You should. I deserve it.” She looks away, as if trying not to look at you. A sharp pain pierces your heart, surprising you.

“You don’t,” you say, feeling almost desperate, trying to make her understand. “You made mistakes, but we all did.”

“I know.” She closes her eyes and leaves, firmly ignoring you, blocking you in the Force. For a moment, you just stand there, feeling almost sick with shame and desperation, but she doesn’t look back at you.

You were finished delivering the supplies before you even saw her. You get onto your ship and power it up. She’s still not looking at you. You keep your eyes on her until you’re too high to even see the camp.

You don’t regret it. You miss her more than words. You don’t cry, you don’t, but your heart is aching and by the Force, she’s the only thing that you want now.

| 

**vi.**

You see her again when you’re volunteering at a Twi’lek refugee camp on a colony planet in the Outer Rim. You’re bandaged the hand of young girl when you feel a presence in the Force, and turn to see her looking at you.

She looks like she wants to leave, but she froze upon seeing you, so you send the girl on her way and cross the camp to face her.

She’s even taller than the last time you met, and you almost have to look up at her. You don’t speak, half expecting one of her sabers to go through your heart. You understand the possibility; you accept it.

“I’m — I’m not going to do anything,” she says suddenly, and you almost jump. She looks almost guilty; you try to hide your confusion.

“It would be within your rights,” you say, almost to yourself.

She takes her lightsabers off her belt and you freeze for a moment before she drops them on the ground. “I won’t hurt you,” she says, eyes intense, and you hold back your shock.

“I thought that if I ever saw you again, there would be a lightsaber between us,” you manage to say, voice low and broken. Her eyes widen in shock.

“I — I wouldn’t—”

“You should. I deserve it,” you say, cutting her off. It’s been over six years now, and you’ve paid back your debt, or at least most of it; maybe it’s finally time for the Force to take you back into the stardust from which you were created.

“You don’t,” she says. “You made mistakes, but we all did.”

“I know.” You close your eyes and turn around, walking away. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. You go back to the medical station and get back to work. You don’t breathe properly until you hear her ship take to the air and fly away. You don’t look back.

You regret it. There’s a hole in your chest, and you know you can fill it alone if you have to, but you want — you _want_. You want _her_. Desperately.

Jedi aren’t allowed to want anything. But you’re not a Jedi anymore. You haven’t been one for a lifetime.  
  
**vii.**

You find out, one day, that she’s joining the Rebellion. At first, you don’t believe it. But it’s official: she’s joining up, and she’s going to stay on the base you’re currently assigned to.

The day dawns cold and clear, snow several inches deep covering the ground, and you wait outside your ship, hands freezing without gloves and a fur-lined hood over your head. Her ship touches down, and the leader of base greets her as she comes down the ramp. You don’t speak. You’re not sure you can.

When she makes eye contact with you, it’s like a shock goes through the Force, freezing both of you in place. There is a long moment where you can’t breathe, where there’s nothing except for her.

It breaks a moment later as the general takes her arm and takes her down the ramp, talking her ear off. You can hear him a little — your montrals are covered by your hood, but Togruta still have good hearing — as he tells her to get settled. And then she’s in front of you, and your breath catches in your throat. She doesn’t say anything, waiting for you to speak, and you swallow, the cold air breaking you out of your shock.

“Come back to my ship?” you ask, gesturing behind you to your parked ship. She half-smiles, and nods. You go in, aware of her following you. More aware than you’ve ever been in your life.

Once you’re in the galley, you stop and gesture for her to have a seat. She does, still watching you intently. “Uh,” you say, floundering for words, “would you like a drink? I have sapir tea, and—” You look into the sparse cupboard. “And instant caf.”

“The tea would be fine,” she says softly, and you make it, aware of her eyes on you. The rich aroma of the tea fills up the small room as the tea steeps, and you pour it. You bring two steaming mugs to the table and sit down next to her, warming your hands against the mug.

You run your finger across the rim of the mug, feeling a chip in it with your nail. You take a sip, and it warms you from inside. When the silence is unbearable, you make yourself speak. “Why did you join the Rebellion?” you ask. There are so many things you want to ask her, a million questions on the tip of your tongue, but none of them are safe. Having her here, drinking tea in your ship, still feels like almost too much — it feels like if you touch her, she’ll shatter, and you’ll be alone again.

She shrugs, swirling the green liquid around in the cup with the Force. “Luminara contacted me. She thought it would be a good idea.”

That comes as a surprise to you — you’d had no idea that Luminara was in contact with her. You realize that she didn’t actually answer your question. “So she convinced you?” you ask.

“No, not really.” She’s firmly looking in another direction.

On instinct, you reach out and lay your hand on her arm. She freezes, her long green fingers tight against the mug she’s holding. “Barriss…”

“I can’t do this,” she says, standing. A sharp pain pierces your heart, and you desperately reach out with the Force, asking her _why_.

Her mental shields slip for a moment, just a tiny sliver of time, and you _see_.

She stumbles back away, eyes wide. “I have to go,” she says, placing the mug on the table and hurrying towards the door.

But you know now. You can’t let her go. Your mind is burning, burning, and before you can think, you follow her. Your hands are shaking, you’ve never felt more uncertain, but you have to — you have to.

You grab her by the arm just before the hits the control to lower the ramp, and turn her to face you. “Barriss, you can’t just leave—”

And as if she can’t control herself, as if every shield and barrier she ever built up has come crashing down, she kisses you.

Even knowing, even after seeing Barriss’s memories and thoughts and wishes and dreams, it’s a shock. For a moment you’re frozen, and she seems like she’s about to pull away, but you pull her closer and kiss her back.

She’s warm and so alive under your hands and mouth, shaking with fear but kissing you like she can’t breath and you’re her air. You push her back and she hits the wall, and you don’t break away. For a long, perfect moment, you wonder if this is proof that the Force never abandoned the Jedi, because nothing could be so perfect and wonderful on its own.

When she finally pulls away, you move back, trying to gauge her reaction. You’re afraid, so afraid that she’s going to leave and it will be as if nothing happened, but she looks almost exhilarated, and you realize how long she’d been dreaming of that. So have you, you realize after a moment. You’d buried it, refused to accept it, but this has been building since the first moment you met on Geonosis.

You swallow, trying to rapidly adapt to this. “Do you… what do you want?” you ask.

She smiles and tilts her head up to kiss you gently. “You,” she says against your lips, and you smile.

| 

**vii.**

You decision to join the Rebellion is both impossible and incredibly easy.

You’re not sure that you would have, if not for meeting her at the refugee camp all those months ago. For the first time since you stood in front of the Chancellor and confessed to your crime, you think that perhaps you can do something truly good, rather than just penance.

The general assigned to the base greets you when you come off the ship. There are a few beings about, watching you land, and your gaze skips over all of them before veering back to the Togruta standing near the middle of the row, wrapped in winter clothes but still recognizable.

It’s her.

For a moment, you can’t breath, and the general’s words fade out as the world shrinks to the space between you and her.

A second later, it breaks, and the general is accompanying you down the ramp. He tells you to get settled and that you’ll be assigned a job the next day. And then there’s nothing between you and her, and you force yourself not to run to her as you approach her. You stop in front of her, and don’t say anything, allowing her to make the first move.

“Come back to my ship?” she asks, gesturing behind her to her ship. You nod, a small smile appearing on your face without prompting, and follow her onto her ship. The air feels tense around you and her, but not in a bad way — it’s as if the Force is holding its breath.

She gestures for you to sit once you’re in the galley, and you do, still watching her. Part of you had wondered if you’d ever see her again — it’s a large galaxy, after all — and you can’t seem to make yourself stop looking, now that you can. “Uh, would you like a drink?” she asks. “I have sapir tea, and—” She opens the cupboard and examines the contents. “And instant caf.”

“The tea would be fine,” you say. You watch her as she makes it. The Jedi are miracles of movement, but she feels like more, at least to you. She brings two mugs of tea to the table and sits down next to you. You blow on the tea to cool it, waiting.

“Why did you join the Rebellion?” she asks after several long moments. In the Force, she’s full of anxiety and worry and anticipation. You’re sure that you feel the same, or close to it.

You contemplate your answer, using the Force to stir your tea. “Luminara contacted me. She thought it would be a good idea.” Which is a non-answer, but saying the truth would be too much. And you know that she doesn’t feel the way you do. Not that you can blame her. _You tried to kill her, Offee_ , you think to yourself. _It’s your fault, as always._

“So she convinced you?” she asks. So she picked up on the non-answer.

“No, not really.” You look away. You’re so close, and you can’t do this. _How did I think this was a good idea? Tea with Ahsoka. Because that could go well._

She reaches out and touches your arm, and you stiffen. Too much, too close. You’re frozen, your only option other than trembling, as she speaks. “Barriss…”

Your name on her tongue is something you haven’t heard for years. You could listen to it for the rest of your life. You pull away and stand. “I can’t do this,” you say, and Ahsoka looks so desperate, so desolate — and she reaches out with the Force. And for only a moment, your mental shields slip. And she sees it.

Everything.

You stumble away, breaking the connection, and put down the mug so you don’t drop it. Your hands are shaking. “I have to go,” you say, and turn to the door, only managing to not run due to tremendous willpower.

She follows you. Of course. You retrace your mental map of the ship, and find the door just as she catches up to you. She grabs your arm just as you’re about to lower the ramp, and she turns you to face her, holding you there, eyes wide and desperate.

“Barriss, you can’t just leave—” she says, and the desperation and fear in her voice breaks something in you. And for the first time in so many years, you lose control. And you kiss her.

It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, except for a moment, she doesn’t move. You begin to pull away, shame filling you, but she pulls you closer, up to her chest, one arm wrapping around your waist, and kisses you back.

It’s desperate, and messy, and inexpert, but it’s still perfect. You kiss her harder, wanting — wanting _more_ , and for the first time, it actually seems possible. Hope is growing inside your chest, filling you with pure joy.

You’ve wanted this since the first time you saw her after the Jedi fell. And you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to let it go now.

With great regret, you pull away, and look up at her face, worried for a moment. But she’s smiling, and she’s still holding you, and the hope that you feel threatens to overwhelm you.

“Do you… what do you want?” she asks.

You smile, and tilt your head up to brush a chaste kiss against her lips. “You,” you say against her mouth, and she smiles.  
  
**viii.**

The seasons pass. The rebel bases move from planet to planet. She lives on your ship with you, and helps you will all your rebellion duties. You become a leader in the Rebellion, selling information and making trouble for the Empire. And she’s always there with you, holding your hand. You think you’re in love. You don’t ever want this to end.

One day, she helps choose your code name: Fulcrum.

“It suits you,” she says when you pitch it to her. You’re laying in your bed on your ship, her head resting on your shoulder, her hand on your stomach.

“Does it?” you ask, and she presses a kiss to your lekku in response. You stifle a giggle; it almost tickles, and you’ve never had the heart to tell her.

“Yeah, I think I like it,” you say. She sits up and kisses you on your mouth, one hand trailing down your side and resting on your hip. You sit up and pull her closer, one hand in her uncovered hair and the other around her waist, pulling her closer.

“I love you,” she whispers against your mouth.

“I love you, too,” you say.

| 

**viii.**

Seasons pass, and the Rebellion grows. You move with her and the rebel bases from planet to planet. You sell your ship and move onto hers, and it sometimes feels like a dream world. Sometimes you’re in the cockpit and she comes up behind you and drops a kiss on the top of your head and you wonder if you’re dreaming, because there’s no way you could deserve this.

But somehow it’s happening anyway.

She becomes a leader in the Rebellion, and you help her choose between a variety of codenames.

“It suits you,” you say when she suggests Fulcrum. You’re in bed with her, bare head against her shoulder and one hand resting on her stomach.

“Does it?” she asks, and you kiss the underside of her left lekku in response. She smiles. “Yeah, I think I like it.”

You sit up and kiss her, moving your hand from her stomach to her hip. She sits up and shifts closer to you, resting one hand in your hair and wrapping the other around your waist. For a moment you’re overwhelmed with pure happiness.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you, too.”  
  
**ix.**

You love her. It has always been like this. You always will. And nothing will ever change it.

| 

**ix.**

You love her. It has always been like this. You always will. And nothing will ever change it.  
  
**xvi.**

You face down your former mentor with agony in your heart. The last thought before your lightsabers clash together in blinding light is of her face.

Hours later, you wake in the dark, and you can feel her, looking for you. A smile slowly crosses your face, and you stand, and make your way down into the dark.

| 

**xvi.**

She is in the rebellion, and you are afraid. One night you wake up with an agonizing pain splitting your chest, and then she’s gone, into the blackness of the Sith. Dead or alive, you don’t know. But you will. You have no choice.

You pack your lightsaber and everything you own, and you steal a starship. The coordinates are set for Malachor.

You press down the hyperspace lever, and the stars blur around you.


End file.
